I just started watching Season 3 of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt recently.  I don’t know if it is that I have a different perspective now or what, but it has gotten me to thinking about things.

The shows premise is that these four women of various ages were locked up in a bunker for a number of years by a psychopath man who claimed to be a reverend saying that the world ended.  The main character, Kimmy, was in there for 15 years and looks at life with an innocent, whimsical and enticing enthusiasm along with an optimism that is unwavering. She ends up renting a room from Titus, a “gay wannabe Broadway actor…an unlikely pair…Titus reintroducing Kimmy to modern life, and her providing him with the inspiration that you should never give up.”

Once some of the fog cleared, when grief allowed me to take a deep breath again, when things started to regain a little color from the faded gray of life that had blanketed me, my eyes looked at things much differently. Many years ago when I studied Buddhism for a bit there was an expression that I came across a lot: “look at things with child’s eyes.”  I never understood that until then. Maybe a little here and there when truly in the present moment with the kids, but as any parent knows, those moments are the more rare ones. I remember walking through the neighborhood looking at things I had looked at many times before, but they looked like they were in 4D.  I have said several times in this blog that I live differently than most. I realize how precious life is and can end when you least expect it. I realize that those you love most dearly can die suddenly. I have held my dead four year old in my arms never to see her smile or laugh again. So what do you do with that?

You live. Hard. You are intense.  You watch shows like the Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt and actually relate to her where most people can’t even fathom doing that. No, I wasn’t in a bunker for 15 years, but I had a life changing event that instead of breaking me changed me dramatically.  It took a no bull shit New Yorker and made that even more so. It launched me into this world of advocacy that I am so passionate about, most people can’t shut me up once I start.  You are reflective and more quiet. You already were, but are more so. You will often be found looking off in the distance with a shadow like sadness across your face, once discovered, changing immediately, much like a chameleon.  You giggle over silly things, laugh uncontrollably over others. Cry when you see a child lose a parent or a parent lose a child on TV or in a movie. Even worse if it is “real life.” You want to shake people and say wake the fuck up, life is short, hold your dear ones close, let go of the stupid stuff.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not walking around all hunky dory, happy go lucky, never complaining.  Believe me, I complain about the stupid stuff. But I “usually” get my head out of my butt rather quickly, because I have this fucked up perspective that my brain echoes, hey, this is not as bad as what you walked in on May 8th, get it together. No, that is not entirely fair to myself, I get that, but it’s true. I have to be careful.  My mind, if allowed, can go down a craptastic rabbit hole of negativity sometimes. It happens usually when I am overwhelmed, tired or hormonal.  But with all the other crappy things in my head, it is like an exponential catalyst that creates a whirlwind of despair. I have worked really really hard not to let it get there anymore.

The good news is though, I do have some perspective at this point. I am optimistic and hopeful again, though it is often scary as shit. I know when the lows happen, even when they are super low, will pass.  Don’t get me wrong, there is a sadness there, always.  But there is joy again.  And within that joy is almost a childlike enthusiasm for life, loving those close to me fiercely because of the fragile finite nature that life holds. But also within that fragile matrix, I know I am strong (as hell), with that strength, I intend to live it as well and intentionally as I can.